Chapter 1
One
Something was wrong.
I reached out a hand, searching my single bed for the man who should be kissing me as I woke. I was alone. No Alfie.
I groaned and forced myself to sit up, my eyes still half-sealed with sleep.
I could smell someone cooking. I sniffed the air and…
wait…not cooking…something was burning. The smoke alarm went off and I flung myself out of bed.
I opened my bedroom door, hopping over the half-packed boxes in the hallway.
The smoke got thicker, stinging my eyes.
My ears rung from the high shrill of the alarm.
I found Alfie in the kitchen holding a pan of what might once have been sausages but now resembled charcoal.
“What are you doing?” I coughed, opening a window.
I grabbed the sweeping brush and used it to switch off the alarm on the ceiling. I noticed then the mass of breakfast ingredients thrown around the tiny kitchenette.
“You’re making breakfast? I’ve got to be at work in an hour.” I took the pan out of his hands and scraped the contents into the bin. Luckily my frying pan didn’t seem too worse for wear.
“I called in for you, told them to let Imani know you’d be late.”
I stilled, frying pan in hand. “You didn’t think to run that by me first?”
“No.”
Of course. Why on earth would he need to ask me first? I stared at him, waiting for it
to click. He seemed more interested in looking at my body. I flushed, realising I didn’t have a stitch of clothing on.
“I just wanted one more morning with you before you started filming. We won't have much time after today.”
Alfie was supportive about my new project for Imani, proud even, but he would always be nervous about anything that pulled me away. I put down the frying pan and wrapped my arms over his shoulders, pressing my naked body up against him.
“You know it’s only for a month, right? I’m still going to be around, just busier than usual. I’m hardly going to forget about you.”
“I’d be harder to forget if you had my ring on your finger.”
Ownership. Alfie had a thing about ownership.
About planting his flag on something and saying ‘this is mine.’ The ring he’d bought for me sat in the safe at his house, waiting until I had the guts to tell Keira and Natalie I was taking a chance on a man who had put me through hell not once, but twice.
My gran would have a fit if she were alive to see this.
“Ring or no ring, I’m still yours.”
“Just not legally,” he muttered. I was hoping that my finally agreeing to move in with him would have assuaged his insecurity but apparently not. “Forget it for now. Is this breakfast salvageable? I wanted to do something nice.”
“I appreciate that.” I surveyed the ingredients he’d bought. “It looks like someone puked up a McDonald’s breakfast in here.”
“A what?” He raised his scarred brow at me.
“Never mind. Why didn’t you just order breakfast like usual?”
“Riley said I ought to make it myself. I told him it was a stupid idea. He knows I can’t cook.” This wasn’t a surprise to me. Alfie had been waited on his whole life.
“Riley said?” Riley and my sister's relationship had been going strong for a while now and they had somewhat mended fences with Alfie after finding out what he’d done to me. I was glad Riley was talking to him again.
“Yes, so I did some research.” He showed me his phone. There was a paused youtube tutorial on the screen.
“You had to look up how to make toast?” I tried not to laugh.
“Like I said, it was a stupid idea.” He tossed his phone onto the counter like he was disgusted with himself.
Then he turned to me, pulling me closer.
“I can be smart in other ways.” My body responded to his touch immediately, I flushed and pressed myself up against him.
The soft cotton of his shirt rubbed against my nipples creating a friction that sent a tingle directly between my legs.
It didn’t please me though. “Alfie, whatever mental beating you’re giving yourself, just stop.
You burnt sausages, it’s not a big deal.
You aren’t a disappointment.” I stepped away.
I didn’t want him to see how angry I was with his fucked up family for making him such a perfectionist that he couldn’t burn breakfast without feeling like a failure and trying to fix it with sex.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to get dressed then I’m going to show you how to make breakfast.”
Alfie curved his hand around my naked body, bending slightly to squeeze my bottom. “Not a chance, O’Connell. It’s too early for clothes.’
“You’re wearing clothes.” He looked like he was on his way to work, all he was missing was his waist coat, tie and jacket. This man was in serious need of sweatpants.
“I’ll clarify. It’s too early for you to be wearing clothes.”
“Ah, okay. Well, lets’ see how long you stick with that when I’m frying bacon and the fat spits at me and burns my bare breasts.” I grinned in triumph as his brows knitted together in defeat.
“Fine.” He pulled his shirt over his head and handed it to me. I put it on and stuck my nose in the collar, revelling in the scent of him.
“So, what are you going to make?” His eyes roamed over me, obviously enjoying the sight of me in his shirt. I don’t know what it was about wearing your man’s shirt that felt so good. There was just something equally safe and sexy about it. It was like being wrapped up in him. A portable Alfie Tell.
“Bacon and egg sandwiches à la Lo.” I tell him with a grin. “You’ll like them.”
“What do I do?”
“Sit there and look pretty?” I joked, my smile widening as his scowl deepened. “Okay, um…” I looked at the array of ingredients. “Can you grate parmesan?” I handed him the cheese and the grater.
I placed the bacon in a fresh pan to fry and watched Alfie out of the corner of my eye as he negotiated the cheese and the grater.
I wondered if it ever occurred to him how vulnerable he was, how ill equipped for life if he ever happened to lose his money.
He might be older than me and more worldly in so many ways, but I was completely self-sufficient.
I knew how to cook, pay bills, wire a plug, fit a washing machine and change a lightbulb.
Without Elliot and the rest of his minions to take care of his every need, Alfie would be as lost as a five year old.
“So, what exactly were you trying to make?” I gestured at the destroyed kitchen. It looked like he’d just opened everything and thrown random ingredients into bowls to see what happened.
“Omelettes at first but I got it wrong. I’m not usually this untidy.” He frowned as the parmesan slipped in his grasp again.
“How do you know how untidy you are if you always have someone to clean up after you? Maybe you’re secretly a slob but you don’t know it because you’ve always had a maid.”
“Fair point, tactfully made as usual.”
The bacon began to sizzle in the pan and I moved it around so it didn’t stick. As I predicted, the fat spat at me, catching my arm.
“Ouch!” I winced and hopped back from the pan, rubbing my wrist.
“Lo?”
“I’m fine.”
“You should let me do that.”
“Honestly, I’m fine. Don’t fuss.” I brushed his hands away. “Grab me some eggs?”
Twenty minutes later, we were sitting at the small breakfast bar that separated the tiny kitchen from the equally tiny living room. I was feeling thoroughly pleased with myself as I watched my man enjoy the food I’d made him.
“Lola, that’s a hell of a sandwich. I think I might need to keep you around, chain you to the kitchen maybe.”
“Jesus, Alfie. Caveman, much?”
He laughed but didn’t answer. “How did you learn to cook?” he asked, taking another bite of the sandwich.
“My gran taught me. She made me bacon sandwiches almost every morning. Not very good for you but delicious. My mum cooked a lot too and I still have her recipe book, I try one out from time to time.” Warmth bloomed in my chest as I watched him, shirtless and eating breakfast. These moments were so perfect it was hard to remember how I’d been away from him for so long. “Did your mum ever cook?”
His face darkened and I wanted to kick myself. “Don’t ruin it, Lo.”
I put a hand on his thigh, letting him know I was sorry. It felt bizarre that I was engaged to a man whose family I hadn’t even met yet. Not that I was in a hurry to meet his mother and sister but Alfie couldn’t keep us apart forever.
When we finished eating, I took our plates to the sink to start on the dishes. Alfie’s arms crept around my body and I stifled a moan when he pressed into me.
“What’re you doing, woman?”
“Playing football. What does it look like I’m doing? I don’t have a maid, remember?” Even if I was moving out this week, I still needed to keep the place clean.
“You would if you’d moved in with me months ago. You chose to stay in this shitty apartment, remember?”
Yes, I did remember. Alfie had sold his monochrome mansion and bought a brand new one, just because.
I’d resisted moving into his place initially.
Despite agreeing to marry him, moving in seemed like a rush.
I hadn’t been ready to leave behind my single bed and crappy water pressure for his luxury lifestyle.
But now my lease was coming to an end and I didn’t have two roommates to split the rent with anymore, it didn’t make sense for me to stay.
Alfie turned me, pressing me against the sink and planted a trail of kisses from my ear to my throat. Any thoughts of dishes and moving were forgotten immediately as his fingers dove between my legs.
He groaned. “Always wet for me.”
I moaned in protest when he took his hand away but he grinned that playful grin that told me he was about to tease the hell out of my body.
“How about we make you wetter?” Wetter? I didn’t think I could get any wetter.
He reached past me into the water-filled sink and came back with a drenched sponge and a glint in his eye.
He raised it over me and squeezed directly onto my chest. I gasped as the water hit me and the white shirt turned see-through.
My nipples showed, begging for attention.
When he was done he tossed the sponge over his shoulder and looked me up and down, admiring his handy work.
“Like what you see?”
“O’Connell, you have no idea.” He pulled me to him and swept me up in his kiss. His hands found my breasts and tugged at my nipples, I moaned as the added sensation of the coarse, wet material sent electric shivers directly to my core.
He pulled back long enough to whip the shirt over my head, his strong hands encircled my waist, lifting me onto the counter amongst the remnants of our breakfast. He gazed at me, his steel greys memorising my face.
My hair had fallen over my breasts, covering them.
Gently, he lifted my locks over my shoulders.
“I love your hair, Lo. It reminds me of sunrise…and sunset.”
“I’m thinking about cutting it again.”
“No.” He twirled a lock between his fingers. “I forbid it. I love every single part of you, don’t cut away a bit of it.”
I smoothed my hands over his bare chest. “Make love to me.”
“Soon.” A wicked grin spread over his face. He reached past me and my eyes widened when his hand landed on a jar of honey and a spoon.
Seriously?
He scooped out a generous spoonful. I expected him to trail it over my skin but instead he landed a heavy dollop of it on my left nipple. I jumped at the cold metal against my skin. The honey tickled and Alfie wasted no time in latching on and suckling me hard.
I threw my head back in pleasure, my fingers dragging through his hair. He came up for air and kissed me.
He reached for the spoon again and scooped out more honey. “Lie back, spread your legs and place your feet on the edge of the counter.”
I did, shoving a basket of croissants out of the way as I leaned back.
I rested on my elbows, unable to take my eyes off him as he made a game out of my body.
He raised the spoon high over me and with a gleeful look in his eye, he tipped the spoon.
The thick honey dripped down my stomach onto my mound and lower, onto my clitoris.
The sensation of the heavy liquid spilling over my engorged bundle of nerves was incredible and when his mouth closed over the sensitive nub I couldn’t watch any longer.
I fell backwards and writhed on the counter as he toyed with me. He licked the honey from my entrance, all the way up and sucked me into his mouth again, tasting the sweetness.
He didn’t torture me for long. His fingers slipped inside and he brought me steadily to the highest pitch my body could reach.
I cried out with my orgasm, my hands fisting his hair as I ground onto his mouth.
I would never get over how easily he could do this to me.
My body convulsed as my orgasm waned and he released my sensitive flesh.
“So fucking sweet,” he murmured.
I heard the buckle of his belt and a moment later he plunged inside me.
My post-orgasmic flesh rippled over him, I was hyper sensitive and I squirmed on the counter top.
His hands found my hips and he pulled me to meet his every thrust. My body went limp, my muscles lax as I gave into his need.
I was entranced, hooked on watching this powerful man using my body for his pleasure.
His chest heaved with exertion. His muscles bunched and flexed with every powerful thrust.
He came inside me with a yell, his eyes burning into mine with the pleasure of his release.
I reached for him and he collapsed into my arms, my name spilling from his lips.
I wrapped my legs around the man I loved and held him to me, trying to convey with my touch the depth of emotion I held for him.
I was lost in him, so completely lost there was no way I was ever getting out. That thought overwhelmed me. That he had ruined me for anything else. There was no way I could ever leave him for any other man, for any other dream, for any other kind of life that didn’t have him in it.